I’m not quite sure where to begin in my summary of the hardest and greatest year of my life. As you can imagine, it’s quite a daunting task. I suppose I could begin with a brief description of my ministry throughout the year:
In Honduras, we built a rabbit cage that is now used by the former street kids to raise and sell rabbits.
In El Salvador, we spoke at a lot of churches, schools, and nursing homes.
In Guatemala, we showed up at church every single day to worship with people that didn’t speak a word of English. It turns out though that the congregation had been praying for someone like us to show up for months. It was an answer to prayers and a fulfillment of prophecy.
In Albania, we shepherded sheep, cleaned pig pins, painted walls, and hauled rocks all in preparation for the upcoming summer camp.
In Bulgaria, we spoke at churches, led worship, and spent a lot of quality time with local believers.
In Romania, I worked with gypsies who live in a garbage dump and hung out with other missionaries my age.
In Kenya, we did a lot of evangelism, speaking at schools and churches, and played quite a bit of volleyball and soccer.
In Uganda, we told a lot of people about Jesus, spoke at churches and schools, and learned a lot from each other in community.
In Rwanda, we went on house visits and shared Jesus with hurting people. We also spoke at churches and children’s clubs.
In China, we supported a lot of local missionaries, helped at schools, led worship, and visited a special needs orphanage.
And in the Philippines, we made great relationships during house visits, worshipped in a bar, helped build part of a house, and weeded a pineapple patch.
So, I’ve sort of done a lot in the last year. I’ve seen some really beautiful things… and some really awful, despairing things. I’ve seen humans at their absolute best – filled with beauty and wonder and love. But I’ve also seen humans at their lowest, ugliest points – in moments of great hurt or anger, sin or devastation.
Seeing such things in the ways I have seen them has a transformative affect on a person.
I once heard a Doctors Without Borders volunteer say, “Helping stop the suffering of people is tremendously rewarding… but it also [messes] you up a bit.” And that’s pretty much how I feel. But when I say that I feel kind of messed up now, I mean that in the best way.
Jeff Goins wrote something that might help you understand what I mean. He said:
“In each of our stories, there is a moment when all of our priorities, all of our concerns, are shifted. Our identity begins to change with it. We sense a disparity between what is and what should be. There is a nagging feeling in our souls that something’s been wrong with the world for a while, and when this Moment happens, the feeling is no longer bearable. You no longer “fit” into the old world. You’ve seen too much, heard too many things, and you can’t go back to ordinary living.”
Well, my moment has happened. I can no longer say I didn’t know. I can no longer avoid responsibility for what happens in the world. And I certainly no longer can say no to the Lord when he asks something of me.
Because this year I’ve learned how to say yes to God, and as a result I’ve had the hardest and best year yet.
So I’m going to keep saying yes. I’m going to keep living a good story, not because I want a good biography, but because we only have “one wild and precious life” so we have to live it well.
As Jeff Goins said, “It’s time, friends. Time to give back. Time to step out and risk more than we want. Time to dream dreams bigger than we imagined. Time to mourn with those who mourn, to bring beauty where there were ashes before, to announce a new season in the world. This isn’t just altruism or compassionate living; it’s something more than a tax write-off or publicity stunt.”
The last eleven months are more than just a year that will be documented neatly in a photo album and tucked into a shelf somewhere in my heart’s great library. This is just the beginning, just the start of something new and big and way beyond what I can see right now.
So, it’s hard to measure a year like this. But if I had to use just one sentence, I’d say: it was the year I learned to say yes.
Thank you, endlessly, for your support and encouragement along the way. You may never know how resuscitating it is to see that you’ve emailed me or commented on my blog or prayed for me by name. It is extremely humbling to be supported so well by you, and I am forever grateful for it.
